This Could Be the Start
by mat528
Summary: My take on the historic first meeting of John Steed and Mrs. Emma Peel. Slightly AU; not necessarily an "Alternate Universes" tale.
1. Chapter 1

THIS COULD BE THE START…

**A/N: This is another early plot bunny that had started in my mind last year. It's based on a hand written story I had done in the mid Nineties about Steed and Mrs. Peel's first meeting. I know it has been done to death but here is my take on it.**

**As always, I don't own any recognizable characters. I am just borrowing them for awhile.**

CHAPTER ONE

John Steed got out of his Bentley and calmly walked to the Ministry offices. His steps had been a lot less lively since the departure of Cathy Gale, his partner and friend. Her new job had taken her out of Steed's life, and to Whiteside, where she had met and married her second husband, the archaeologist, Dr. Ronald Lansing. For the past month and a half, Steed had found himself quite alone. He had told his superior One Ten, (who ironically had also transferred to another department recently), that he could handle the separation.

He had turned into a great actor. Steed sighed, wondering what the Ministry wanted him for this time. He entered the building, tipping his hat to the female security guard on duty. She huffed, not in the least charmed by Steed. He rounded the corner of the massive hallway and entered One Ten's former office. At least, he noted, they had not removed the plaque yet.

"Steed…so delighted to finally meet you," a tall, non-descript man greeted sarcastically. He held out a bony hand to the chief secret agent. Steed shook it briefly, taking a seat. "I am Twenty One."

"Taking over for One Ten, I heard," Steed said.

"Yes…he wanted to transfer out of the espionage game and do all those things us poor working blokes in this department can't do yet," Twenty One said, adjusting a pair of glasses (which in Steed's opinion did nothing for his face—they were too large) so they fit properly on his nose.

He went to a file cabinet behind him, grabbing some papers from it. "Let's see…John Steed…" Twenty One mused. "Says here you worked with a civilian, Cathy Gale."

"So I did," Steed confirmed. "I also worked with Venus Smith, and Doctor David Keel, both civilians."

Twenty One peered at the Edwardian dressed agent. "You seem to get your jollies from working with those who haven't been trained in the proper agency procedures," Twenty One observed with censure in his voice.

"They are better trained than many of our own personnel," Steed defended. "And unlike many of our own agents, they have no rules and regulations to bind them."

"Which in my opinion makes them dangerous," Twenty One rejoined. "Suppose they had just defected to the other side?"

"Because our own agents would _never _do a thing like that," Steed bit back sarcastically, a cold smile fixed on his face. Twenty One rose from his seat, crossing to a small table which had various types of liquor. He selected a Brandy bottle and produced a snifter.

"You surprise me, Twenty," Steed teased. "I would have thought drinking in these hallowed halls was against the rules."

"It actually is, but when I heard I was going to have to deal with _you,_ I made an exception," Twenty One responded. He poured himself a glass of the amber liquid and tossed one back. Opening the drawer beside him, he pulled out another glass, filled it halfway, and offered it to Steed.

"Thank you," Steed said, accepting the glass. He equally drank his amount of alcohol quickly, and then relaxed in the chair, waiting for Twenty One to speak. Steed put the glass back on Twenty One's desk table.

"Let's cut to the chase, Steed," Twenty One began. He took Steed's glass and his to the small table and set them on it for housekeeping to remove. Sitting back in his chair, Steed's new superior fixed the older agent with an icy stare. Steed was not intimidated.

"I think I don't have to tell you that I don't like you as an agent, and I don't like your methods of procuring information for us," Twenty One continued. Steed raised a brow, also staring at Twenty One with his dark eyes. "However, in this business, results are what are the driving force," Steed's superior said. "You have achieved outstanding results, despite your, shall we say…shortcomings when utilizing non-authorized personnel. That is something that should not be discounted."

Twenty One withdrew a file from another drawer on his desk on the opposite side from his liquor glasses. He tossed the file to Steed. Steed waited a beat before picking it up.

He opened the file, glancing at the contents. "'John Peel, Pilot…Adventurer: Missing in Action…'" Steed read aloud. "And this concerns us because…?" He asked.

"It concerns us because we think he might have been selling some of our secrets to the other side," Twenty One said. "You see, we employed his services as a pilot some time ago. He had experience navigating through the Amazon both in the air, and on land. As you know, we have had several top secret operations there, but we couldn't just send in any agent who did not know the terrain, or the natives."

"Yes, I know," Steed responded. "John Peel is one of the few countrymen who is rumored to know how to speak to the Amazon tribes there."

"Exactly," Twenty One confirmed, "and that is why he is so valuable…"

"Even though he is a _civilian?" _Steed punctuated.

"All right, Steed, I admit, we do use people from the outside from time to time…" Twenty One reluctantly told the agent.

"But now, it has come back to bite you," Steed said, enjoying Twenty One's discomfiture.

"Look, Steed, I'm in enough trouble as it is, or I soon will be when my superiors get hold of this piece of information," Twenty One said, his voice starting to rise. "You are very good at keeping secrets, even from us! That's why I am assigning you to this case."

Steed glanced at the portfolio of John Peel, noting, "There isn't a photo in here! How am I to locate him, if that is, in fact, what you want?"

"He has a wife," Twenty One said. "Perhaps she may be of assistance as to his whereabouts, or what he was actually working on. Do whatever it takes to find out his part in this…turn on your considerable charm. Use whatever means are necessary to retrieve him, or the information, or both."

"It may take some time if this is all you have on him, and his wife," Steed mused. "By the way…what does she look like?"

"Young, reddish brown hair, or so I'm told," Twenty One answered.

"Oh, that narrows it down to thirty percent of the female population of Great Britain at the very outside," Steed ground out.

"Look, Steed, I know there isn't much, but here is his last known address," Twenty One said, handing Steed a small piece of paper from the file. "Take as much time as you need, but don't tell anyone about this." Steed took the paper, nodding.

"I don't have to tell you that this conversation never took place," Twenty One said.

Steed had an innocent expression on his face. "What conversation?" he asked, leaving the office.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Emma Peel drove up to the London flat she and her husband shared and let herself inside.

"John?" she called, putting down the packages she had purchased. When she didn't hear any response, she tried again.

"Johnny?" Emma said. "Where have you gotten off to? I have a surprise!" She went through the living quarters, no John. The bedroom was neatly made up; no John. The kitchen had some coffee, but otherwise, there was no John.

It was the study that gave Emma Peel the first inkling that something bad might have happened to her spouse. The desk was neatly polished, and her husband's papers had been meticulously arranged.

_Too meticulous looking,_ she thought. Apparently, someone had gone through a lot of time and trouble trying to straighten up their flat so that it looked like John had tidied up before popping off. Emma's long, straight fingers combed the papers gingerly, trying to see if anything of her husband's would produce a clue as to his whereabouts.

She thought about calling upon the authorities, but whoever did this would probably have thought of that, leaving little, if any, evidence that he or she had been there. Her dark orbs scanned the table and found a small black book amongst the papers.

"Journal!" she exclaimed, flipping through the book to the last page John had written on.

Her brows furrowed with confusion as she read the last entry: _Weatherford, day after tomorrow, CF._

"'CF'"? She muttered. "What were you working on, John? And why didn't you take me?"

She barely had time to look for more clues when the front door lock creaked. Emma went behind the massive chair her husband and she liked to sit in whenever they wrote in the study. Maybe the person who had abducted him was coming back for another go at his papers. Well, she decided, they would not get away with anything! She would definitely see to that.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Steed let himself in courtesy of a special key which was even more sophisticated than the proverbial skeleton key. He walked through the ground floor flat spying the neatly organized space.

_Quite a housekeeper, aren't we, Mr. Peel?_ he thought.

He saw the buffet table with various liquors on it. Not seeing that anyone else was in the living quarters, Steed helped himself to a small glass of brandy. He started searching for any notes that would help him, or even a photo of the man Steed was trying to find.

Behind him in the study, Mrs. Peel emerged from her hiding place. Her eyes flashed with anger when she beheld Steed's searching and the glass in his hand.

_He __**must **__be behind this! _She thought, creeping up ever closer to Steed. The agent placed the glass down on a coaster on the table as Mrs. Peel continued to advance. She lifted her arm to strike, and then she was promptly jerked in front of John Steed.

Mrs. Peel grunted with indignation. Steed felt a moment of sheer excitement and appreciation even though his almost-assailant was probably working for the wrong side. Or was she? Auburn hair; dark, intelligent eyes set in a round face; a slim, yet curvy figure, almost cat-like…if this was John Peel's wife, Steed decided that the pilot was the luckiest man on Earth.

"Mrs. Emma Peel?" Steed asked as he remembered that Twenty One had talked about her hair colour. He thrust his hand forward. That turned out to be a big mistake.

Mrs. Peel flipped Steed onto the rug with Chinese calligraphy in the living room. Steed's bowler rolled off of his head over to the back of the couch nearby. Steed got up despite his seeing stars and tried again.

"Now look, Mrs. Peel…we shouldn't be fighting like this! I am on your side!" he told her. Mrs. Peel's nostrils flared with hostility.

"I'll bet!" she snarled, her arm attacking in a perfectly executed Karate move. Steed had been much quicker that time. He jumped back, avoiding her attack. Mrs. Peel's leg shot out, but Steed grabbed it and pushed her back so that she connected with a table behind her.

"My dear, sweet lady," he said, "I have no wish to hurt you!" Mrs. Peel delivered a Karate chop to his midsection. The secret agent collapsed to the ground, barely able to rise for several moments.

_Perhaps I should amend that!_ Steed thought.

"Stay where you are!" Emma commanded. Steed started rising slowly.

"Is this the way you treat visitors?" he joked. "If so, you must not have many friends!" Steed reached out and flipped her onto the sofa.

Mrs. Peel reached behind her back, and in a surprising show of strength, yanked him onto the sofa so that he lay upside down, his feet dangling where her face was. His eyes were fixed on her chest for a moment as he tried to right himself. Despite her heavy breathing, she pinned him down with her arm.

Steed tried to fling off her arm, but Emma used her martial arts training to hold him at bay. The agent's eyes darted left and right for any item he could use to break her concentration. Suddenly, he spied a blanket on the left side of the couch. His fingers reached for it, as Mrs. Peel continued holding him down at his chest. A moment later, the auburn haired woman gasped as a yellow-green object blocked her vision. Steed tugged the blanket over her as much as he was able.

"Mmmmph!" her muffled noise came from the blanket. By the time Mrs. Peel had flung the blanket off, Steed was dusting himself off and walking slowly towards her kitchen.

The woman followed as Steed said, "You have a remarkable form! Did you study with the Li institute in London?"

Mrs. Peel peered at the coffee pot and thought this man had lost his mind. "What on Earth are you doing?" she asked.

Steed turned on the electric pot and said, "I'm making a drink called coffee." He added after he studied her a moment, "Although given all the excitement we've just had the last thing either of us need is coffee. Sort of puts one on edge, doesn't it?"

He crossed over to a bread basket and selected two scones. The spy started searching for a tray so that he could pop them into the oven.

"I don't suppose you have any tea, do you, Mrs. Peel?" he asked.

"As a matter of fact, I don't. That's why I was purchasing some at a Chinese shop this afternoon," she reported, wondering why she felt like divulging where she was, all of a sudden.

It was then that she got a good look at Steed. He was tall, with a totally Edwardian wardrobe which consisted of a grey, pinstriped jacket covering a white shirt, matching grey vest and long trousers, and perfectly polished black shoes. He looked so much like her husband that she could understand, at least a little, why she suddenly decided to share some information with him.

Steed removed the scones from the oven with a hand towel he had spotted by the sink.

"Marzipan scone?" he offered. "Or do you prefer the berry?"

"Berry," Mrs. Peel answered, taking the tray from Steed and putting it on her coffee table in the living room.

Steed dutifully followed, sitting down a few feet from her in a wooden chair across from the couch. Mrs. Peel got up when the humming of the coffee pot had stopped. She poured two cups of coffee into two small China cups and handed one to Steed.

Steed peered inside, asking with a frown, "No cream?"

"No cream, and _no_ sugar," Mrs. Peel replied, "until you tell me who you are!"

"I have been trying to introduce myself for the past twenty minutes," Steed said; then, he looked at his watch and added, "make that thirty minutes."

Steed bit into part of his scone and said, "I'm John Steed."

"I am Mrs. Emma Peel," Mrs. Peel replied. "Why are you here?"

"Looking for clues as to your husband's whereabouts," Steed answered. "Do you know where he disappeared to?"

"I was hoping you would," Mrs. Peel said, biting into her scone. She took a small sip of her coffee.

"He didn't tell you he was going somewhere?" Steed inquired.

Emma shook her head, saying, "Some of his freelance is highly confidential, even from me."

"He must have left in a hurry," Steed mused, "although someone worked hard to conceal that fact."

Emma said thoughtfully, "I guessed that, too. I was planning to surprise him with his favourite afternoon snack, but when I got here, he was gone, and everything was as you see it."

Steed took another bite of his scone, but then got up from the chair, going into the kitchen. Emma followed him.

"Is there anything you can tell either myself, or the Department, that can help us collect him?" Steed wanted to know.

Emma asked, "Which Department?" Steed shook his head, smiling. He reached into the refrigerator and grabbed a small pitcher of cream.

"I am not at liberty to say," he responded. "I can tell you that it is a highly specialized branch of the Ministry, however."

Mrs. Peel processed the information, then said, "So you are some kind of agent, is that it?" She and Steed walked back to where the coffee pot was.

Steed smiled again, saying, "In a manner of speaking."

Mrs. Peel queried, "And, you are searching for my husband for what purpose?"

"Actually, I don't know," Steed admitted. "Except to say that he may have some vital information for us." Steed didn't add that the Ministry suspected that Mr. Peel could be an intelligence leak. He found himself warming up to the delectable Mrs. Peel.

_I wonder if she would consider…?_ Steed mentally questioned, rapidly figuring out how he would broach the subject with her about becoming his partner. He knew Twenty would object; that alone was worth the cost of admission, but he also knew that her intelligence and her fighting skills could be extremely valuable.

"I _do _know that it may involve the Amazonian jungle," Steed said conspiratorially. He could see Mrs. Peel perking up at that for a moment before a mask of cool indifference settled over her lovely features.

Emma considered for a moment. If she could get Steed to divulge where he probably knew her life partner was, then she could charter a plane and search for him. She needed as much information given the vastness of the Amazon jungle as she could get.

Remembering the journal entry, Mrs. Peel told Steed, "I saw some writing in my husband's journal. It was his last entry prior to his disappearance. It read, 'Weatherton, day after tomorrow, CF.' The entry was dated this morning."

"CF?" Steed asked, puzzled. "What's 'CF'"?

"I haven't any idea," Mrs. Peel said, putting cream into his coffee.

"Perhaps we could find out together," Steed suggested as he drank.

Mrs. Peel smiled, saying, "Perhaps we could, Steed." She reached for her coffee cup and clicked hers against his in a toast.


	3. Chapter 3

THIS COULD BE THE START

CHAPTER THREE

**A/n : I know I haven't updated in forever, but here is another chapter. This one has adventure in it. As for the parachute scene, I hope I got it right! This is dedicated to Donald B.: thanks for all your help!**

**Please read and review, thanks.**

**Another short author's note appears at the end.**

XXXXXXXXXXX

Steed picked up Mrs. Peel bright and early the next morning at a motel on the edge of town. He had insisted that she stay there to avoid "any entanglements", as he put it. For once, Emma didn't argue, since staying in her home was very risky at the moment. She didn't put it past whomever had ransacked the flat to return, particularly since they didn't have the journal and she did.

Mrs. Peel almost hoped that the bad guys would return so that she could practice her karate, kung fu, and judo moves on them. To add to that, although she'd toasted with Steed and he'd promised to take her on his trip to the Amazon to locate her husband, she wasn't certain she fancied being with a man who reminded her of her missing spouse so much.

Travelling with John Steed was frustrating, to say the least, especially when he arrived at four in the morning, a time which was an ungodly hour to be up and about, in her opinion.

Mrs. Peel tucked her hair behind her ear and she tried to be presentable when she opened the door to the secret agent, all dressed to kill both figuratively and literally (or so she reasoned) with his navy vest, complete with weskit and pocket watch, his bowler, matching jacket and pants, and a brolly, of all things.

"Steed…" she said, yawning. "Do you secret agent types _always _rise in the middle of the night?"

Steed smiled, saying, "Oh, come, come, Mrs. Peel! It's morning! The sun is waiting to appear and the rooster is ready to announce the beginning of another day!"

"_Why _exactly are we up, or rather you are, before these things happen?" Mrs. Peel asked, opening the door wider so that Steed could come in. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and went into the kitchen to put on some water for some tea.

"Let's just say waking up at this time gives one a happy to be alive feeling!" He instantly switched from a jovial expression to a serious one.

Going over to the large, picturesque window which showed a spectacular view of London's south district, Steed pulled back the flimsy, white drapes. Mrs. Peel came over to it and stared in the direction Steed was looking. An unmarked automobile was cruising down the street, its personnel scanning the block Mrs. Peel's hotel was on.

"You were followed," Steed stated the obvious. "Obviously they want your husband's journal."

Mrs. Peel frowned, saying, "Obviously."

Steed dropped the curtains back into place. "It won't take long to find out where you're staying, Mrs. Peel," Steed said, all business now.

Emma threw some items back into her suitcase from the water closet where she'd put them. "I don't suppose I have time to change," she said.

Steed looked admiringly at Mrs. Peel's lacy nightgown. It left very little to the imagination, and it was a very chaste white, but then, it was Steed's good opinion that John Peter Peel's wife would look good in a burlap sack. If she weren't married….Steed didn't finish his train of thought.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Peel had gone just then behind a panel to change. Within moments, she was fully clothed in a black leather jacket, beneath which was a white, long puffy sleeved blouse complete with a cameo at its collar, and tight, fashionable black leather pants.

"You're a marvel, Mrs. Peel!" Steed praised, pleased that she could change clothes so fast, yet secretly disappointed at the same time that he didn't get to see more of her delectable figure.

Suddenly, a knock sounded on the door. Mrs. Peel said, "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am, but one of the guests who is in fact next door has a clogged sink, and we think that yours may be the reason," a very pleasant sounding voice said.

"Oh?" Mrs. Peel asked, sounding as casual as she could despite her pounding heart.

"Yes," the muffled male voice told her. "You see, he tried to activate the disposal device, and it wouldn't drain his sink. Since the pipes are all interconnected to each other, we must check all of the ones in this sector."

Mrs. Peel said, "Well, when you put it _that _way…." She gave a nod to Steed, who nodded back and opened the door.

The man came in, whistling a happy tune. He was tall, and non-descript. To anyone looking at him, he just seemed like an ordinary man with close cropped blond hair. He had a plumber's outfit on and a tool chest in his hand. On his lapel, the name "Harlan" was sewn in.

"I won't be a minute," he said. Mrs. Peel peered at the paper in his other hand. Studying it, (for speed reading was one of the many talents she possessed,) she saw that the paper was an advertisement for a party at a nearby pub.

"So, where is your work order to do the plumbing?" She asked the man casually. His blue eyes looked up from the living room he'd been perusing.

"Why do you wish to see them?" The man wanted to know. Mrs. Peel noted that his once cheery voice was now colder.

"Mostly because she wants to be certain there isn't some mistake," Steed put in with a deceptively cheerful voice. His eyes, which were staring straight at the man, told a different story.

The man was routing about in his tool chest, seemingly for something to fix the drain as he said, "Oh, there is no mistake. I have the right room." He raised the gun he'd managed to withdraw from his satchel.

"Oh, look, Mrs. Peel! How amazing that he picked the incorrect appliance!" Steed shouted.

Mrs. Peel didn't look frightened; in fact, she looked like she expected trouble, given how the flat she'd been in earlier had been sifted through. She braced herself to do battle inwardly even though she was as calm as a person discussing politics or the weather.

The man sneered, "I have the correct one required to finish the two of you off, _after _we collect what we want."

"And, who is 'we' pray tell?" Steed wanted to know.

"We're not prepared to say anything!" The villain snapped. "Now, hand it over!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Mrs. Peel said even though she knew what the man wanted.

"Too bad for you, then!" He snapped. The man's hand moved to fire the gun, even as Steed went into action. He opened his umbrella so that it was in front of himself and Mrs. Peel.

"Looks like rain!" Steed joked as the man fired.

Like a gigantic shield, the umbrella absorbed the impact of the bullets. When the assailant ran out of his six bullets, Mrs. Peel ducked behind him before he could reload his gun. She hit him on the back of his neck, taking him down. Steed closed his umbrella even as Mrs. Peel looked at him, completely surprised and grateful that he had such a device. They carefully looked for signs of the car Steed had seen earlier.

When the coast was clear, Steed reported, "There's no sign of them; however, we need to be away before they circle again."

"Let's take your car," she said. "It might be less conspicuous than mine." The spy's eyes fell on another vehicle. It was a motorcycle with a sidecar. Mrs. Peel looked at Steed as if to say, "you cannot be serious!"

"We must be prepared to make concessions, Mrs. Peel," Steed said, adding, "they probably know our cars and will be looking out for them. You've driven one of these, I presume?"

Mrs. Peel nodded, needing no further encouragement. She put on a helmet that had been carelessly discarded. Steed tapped his bowler, and after securing the umbrella that had saved them, both were off: she in the main seat; he in the sidecar.

From the shadows between two buildings was an alley. The location was big enough for a car to camouflage itself in so that no one, not even the most able bodied of men, could spot one. The villains inside eased their car forward. They saw the departure of the woman and the mysterious man in the bowler, and they contacted the one they had thought would kill their targets.

"Agent Holly reporting," the man upstairs said, albeit slightly groggily. "Acquisitions of possession went awry. Awaiting further instructions."

"Our contacts have told us where they are most likely to go with the item we're looking for," a German sounding voice said over the communicator. "Send word to them, and tell them it is their turn to collect what we want."

"Will do," Agent Holly said. He transmitted his message, his anger as he stared outside of the hotel window palpable.

_Next time, you'll not have some dandy to save you, Mrs. Peel, _Agent Holly pronounced as he went to join his colleagues.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

After notifying his superiors about the man who'd tried to kill them, Steed and Mrs. Peel made their way to the chartered plane they were to take to the Amazon jungle. Twenty One had told Steed that he would find the man they were to contact upon arrival. He was an expert tracker, Twenty One had said, and the tracker would guide them through the jungle provided they could reach him without getting killed.

"Anything else, Twenty?" Steed queried.

Twenty One's voice came over the phone, saying, "Just bring Mr. Peel back alive, by any means necessary."

"That's my top priority, Twenty," Steed assured the supervisor, "especially since his wife wouldn't have it any other way." He winked at Mrs. Peel and slipped her a sly smile.

"What do you mean, Steed?" Twenty One's voice was rising when he realized what Steed was saying. "Do you mean to say that you've got his wife, a _civilian, _with you?"

"Talk to you later, Twenty!" Steed said jovially. He ended the connection and helped Mrs. Peel onto the plane. It was a simple looking aircraft resembling a cargo plane on the outside, yet with spacious leather seats on the inside.

There was a rotund pilot at the cockpit. He was checking the controls. Another pilot sat next to him. He had aviator glasses covering his face. His build was thin, and slight.

"Strap yourselves in," he told them. Steed and Mrs. Peel used the seatbelts attached to their chairs. Looking at his watch, the agent saw that it was nigh on 9AM.

Once both pilots saw that they were strapped inside their chairs, the plane took off. Steed asked for the hour it would be when they arrived in the jungle.

"The way this plane handles, it will be approximately 7PM," the fatter pilot told them. "So sit back, relax, and if there's anything you need, the stewardess will attend you!"

As if on cue, a short, red headed woman in a stewardess' outfit came out, smiling warmly at Steed. After introducing herself as Miss Pennyworth, the attractive woman went back to her seat and strapped herself in. The plane continued on its journey as Steed and Mrs. Peel watched the clouds rolling by.

"So when you came to visit this morning, did you discover what 'CF' means?" Mrs. Peel inquired. Steed gave her an intense look, but then he relaxed visibly.

"Don't you recall, my dear? 'CF' is a lovely lady that we shall be having dinner and drinks with!" Steed proclaimed. Mrs. Peel's confusion was evident until she saw the look in the agent's eyes.

_Play along, _he mouthed to her all of a sudden.

"Yes, indeed we shall," she said, hoping that she'd understood the message Steed had conveyed. When he grinned at her, Mrs. Peel smiled back, her face deducing triumphantly that she had guessed correctly. She was about to engage in more witty banter when something occurred to her.

"Did I ever tell you about the time Johnny and I were the first ones to arrive at fancy dress party in Hampshire, much to our friends' surprise, of course?" Mrs. Peel asked Steed. The agent realized she was doing as he'd mouthed to her earlier, even as she deftly changed the subject. He waited to see where she was going with this verbal exchange.

"Can't say that I've heard that story," he said. Mrs. Peel laughed; a rich, throaty one that made Steed's heart beat faster with instant attraction.

"Well, he was taking the north road instead of the other and, as Fate would have it, we ended up there about three hours earlier! Instead of it taking 13 hours, it only took ten!" She shouted.

"Imagine that!" Steed exclaimed, looking directly at her.

"Yes, too bad that can't happen here," she said. "I mean, military planes are _so _slow that we couldn't possibly arrive at our destination earlier than 13 hours, at the very least! Ah, well…." She sighed, casually leaning against her chair. Steed was reminded of a sleek, graceful cat as he looked at her; then, he thought about the information Mrs. Peel had given him.

Processing what she'd told him, since his lovely companion was making a great showing to discuss the time with him, she knew something about what the pilot had told him. He remembered that the pilot had said that they would arrive at 7PM, but if Mrs. Peel was correct, that was only 10 hours ahead. In actuality, it should take 13 hours to get to their destination. The pilot, therefore, had lied.

Steed frowned; this meant trouble, with a capital 'T'.

XXXXXXXXXXXx

The plane was flying over the Atlantic hours later on the South American side. The Peel woman and her boyfriend or whoever he was appeared to be asleep, the stewardess thought as she viewed them in their chairs. There would never be a better opportunity. The titian haired spy knocked on the door.

"Yes, Katie?" The thin pilot asked the stewardess.

"The passengers are napping," the female reported. "When shall I wake them?" Her eyes flicked to the first pilot.

The other pilot started to answer the question, only to stare in horror as the fat pilot withdrew a small harpoon gun and fired it. The legitimate pilot slumped in his chair, his face discoloring as the poison inside of the weapon spread throughout his system.

The stewardess tossed out the extra parachutes from the main cabin. Checking the plane, she spied one parachute under a chair that wasn't occupied by either Steed or Mrs. Peel. She was about to toss it out the side door when she felt a slender pair of fingers pushing her back.

The red headed woman snarled when she saw that Mrs. Peel was wide awake! Meanwhile, Steed opened the cockpit door. He saw the pilot slumped over and regarded the other man, who was putting the plane on autopilot as he jettisoned the remaining fuel.

"You weren't planning to leave so soon, were you?" He asked the fat pilot. Steed's adversary held the harpoon gun aloft, brandishing it, his face telling the agent what would happen if Steed crossed him. While Mrs. Peel and the stewardess were grabbing each other, locked in a martial arts styled struggle, Steed looked for any opportunity to disarm his opponent.

Suddenly, the rotund pilot lunged out toward Steed, who grabbed his arm and yanked with all of his might. This caused the man's arm to shoot out and the arrow to release some of the poison into the ceiling. Before he could reload his weapon, Steed slammed his bowler on top of the man's head, knocking him out with the metal hat.

He tugged his vest down and cried, "Mrs. Peel, how are we doing?" A moment later, Mrs. Peel popped inside the cockpit, her hair slightly mussed; her jacket hanging off of her shoulders, but otherwise unharmed. She straightened her puffed sleeved blouse, then confirmed with a look that the stewardess was still unconscious.

"He pressed a button prior to my disarming him. Are you able to land this plane?" Steed asked Mrs. Peel. She flung the dead pilot off of his chair and checked the altimeter.

"Elementary, my dear Steed," she said, taking over the joystick and keeping the aircraft steady. She tapped the fuel indicator once, then twice to make certain the gas level was all right; then, after a moment's pause, Mrs. Peel looked at Steed, who'd taken the first pilot's seat.

"Steed…" she said in a grave voice, all joking aside.

Steed looked out the side window. He saw the amber colored petrol for the craft flying out the side. "Don't say it," he advised, but she did.

"I think they left only enough fuel for them to dispose of us, then fly back," Mrs. Peel began. She told Steed about the stewardess and her parachute. As she entered the room, the previously unconscious assistant waved to both and jumped to safety.

"Our ride just went!" Mrs. Peel reported. Steed and Mrs. Peel scanned the room for any signs of another parachute before the distracted agent remembered the other pilot's chute.

"Mrs. Peel…!" Steed cried, but it was too late. The pilot revived and pressed a button on the panel in front of where he was. His chair shot up and out of the airplane, a chute deploying from it before the front left portion of the plane could seal itself back up.

Steed and Mrs. Peel locked the door to the cockpit at the opposite end. The plane began its nosedive toward the land below.

Mrs. Peel tried in vain to steady the aircraft. "We can't stop it, Steed!" She shouted amidst the screaming jet engines.

Steed knew he had to think of something; then, looking toward his brolly, he had the solution. Frantically, he unhooked the belt around his waist, loosening it a little, then looping it around his umbrella.

"Mrs. Peel, use that shirt of yours! Tie it around me, quickly!" Steed instructed, moving toward the open door in the second part of the aircraft.

"Steed, this is no time to get romantic!" Mrs. Peel quipped, though she did as Steed had told her. She tied the big sleeves good and tight so that they were wrapped around Steed's waist.

The plane started to spin in its downward trek. Steed felt the wind rushing past and he could see it snatching at Mrs. Peel's luxurious auburn hair. He mentally counted the seconds until they needed to jump. Spying a clump of thick trees below, the secret agent looked on as they loomed closer, closer….Then—

"_Now_, Mrs. Peel!" He cried. "Jump with me!" Secured to Steed and his brolly, Mrs. Peel jumped along with Steed to the trees below.

**A/N: You know they'll get outta this! But, in any case, stay tuned to find out how!**


	4. Chapter 4

THIS COULD BE THE START

CHAPTER FOUR

**A/N : Steed and Mrs. Peel embark on what may turn out to be their ****greastest adventure as a new character is introduced!**

**I got the Portugese dialect off of Google. Let me know if it's okay!**

**Feel free to read and review.**

_Previously: __**Now**_**,** _Mrs. Peel!" He cried. "Jump with me!" Secured to Steed and his brolly, Mrs. Peel jumped along with Steed to the trees below._

Steed tried to steer himself as much as he could given the added weight of his lovely passenger.

He also made a gigantic effort not to notice how soft her camisole, and the chest beneath it, felt, or how like his favorite scent on a woman, jasmine, smelled on her.

Deciding on their best option for survival with the smallest of injuries, Steed activated the third, and last, clever device on his brolly. He was sure that when 213 got wind of how he'd used her inventions, she would be so grateful that she might wine and dine him one evening. He could picture her treating him to an evening which featured them eating on the _Bon Voyage _cruise ship in their finest dining room, whispering sweet things toward each other as they flirted shamelessly.

Somehow, though, he really couldn't see agent 213 clearly anymore. Her honey blonde hair was replaced by auburn hair, more brownish than red, and a rounder face, with deep, dark, perceptive eyes and a figure that was more lithe than round (though the woman he fancied now still had amazing curves).

Still, he did owe 213 some modicum of thanks for her camera she had the techno wizards insert in the handle of the brolly; the material that resembled vinyl but was in actuality a bullet proof Kevlar shield; and the drone chute he now deployed to save himself and Mrs. Peel.

Without it, he knew they'd not live to find her husband, let alone tell the tale of their survival.

"Steed!" Mrs. Peel exclaimed when she saw the opened brolly expand into a parachute above them.

"Yes, Mrs. Peel?" He shouted amidst the blowing wind.

"How shall we land without injuring ourselves?" She asked the obvious.

They had managed to drift a little to the side so that it was more likely that they would land in the tallest section of trees, but the two adventurers were still not out of danger.

Steed had heard about various agents, like Amelia Jaime Summers, Agent Bluebell, etc., and their parachute accidents when they bumped into the trees rather than landed softly and suffered concussions, broken ribs, and several other scratches and wounds that put them in hospital.

The agent didn't want to think of himself, to say nothing of the delectable Mrs. Emma Peel, in that situation.

Which brought him back to the best chance of escaping their predicament unscathed. As much as Steed hated doing this, he forced a smile at Mrs. Peel and started undoing her knot. Emma looked at him, a dangerous expression on her face.

"John Steed, don't you dare…!" She yelled. But, she felt herself sailing through the air toward a very large, very tall tree with some thick branches.

"STEED!" Mrs. Peel shouted, using her blouse as a makeshift chute. It caught on some smaller branches below, suspending her in the air a few feet above the ground.

Meanwhile, Steed drifted toward an area that was between two trees. He dropped to the ground silently, none the worse for wear. After putting his brolly to rights, Steed saw Mrs. Peel undo her now tattered blouse, landing with as much dignity as she could on her bum.

Rubbing it, she accused, "You could have let me know what you were planning!" She pulled herself to her feet. Steed placed his jacket around her shoulders. Gratefully, Mrs. Peel pulled it over her camisole and buttoned it despite its bigger frame so that only the tiniest portion of the tantalizing undergarment beneath showed.

Together, they heard a "WHOOSH" like sound before another sound of a crash was heard.

Steed and Mrs. Peel looked to the left to see the fireball that signaled what was left of the doomed aircraft.

"Where do you suppose they are?" Mrs. Peel finally queried after a second's pause.

"The ones who tried to kill us?" He guessed. "I wouldn't try to speculate. Hopefully, though, we'll have gained some time, since they escaped many minutes before we did."

"Where to, now?" Mrs. Peel asked. Steed looked at the slightly amusing picture she made wearing his jacket, and grinned.

"I think we should find the guide and get you into something more presentable as soon as possible, though I won't object if you continue modeling my attire, Mrs. Peel," Steed told her in a flirty tone.

Mrs. Peel glanced down at the jacket she wore and pulled it even more over her thinner frame. Walking ahead of him after sending him a glare, Mrs. Peel went toward a clearing…and stopped.

"Mrs. Peel, what is it?" He asked. She looked around.

"Steed, we're being watched," she said with all certainty. Steed glanced around, but could see nothing or no one.

"Are you certain?" He inquired.

"Yes," she whispered, her arm pointing in the direction of the observer. "That way."

Steed nodded, slipping to her right. Mrs. Peel took the opposite direction. She put her hands to her mouth and shouted.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" She cried. When she got no answer, she repeated her question. There was a rustling of the leaves and trees, but nothing that sounded like a person or an animal running. Of course, Steed knew that what sounded like one thing could, and often was, something else masking itself.

He was rewarded with being right as he tackled a man to the ground moments later.

"Ooof!" The man cried, then, "saia de mim!" He said, in perfect Portugese. A cursory check revealed that the man had no weapons, save for a machete. Steed took the knife, then jerked him up.

"Quem é você?" Steed asked. The man caught his breath and looked at the pair. Steed repeated his question.

"I heard you the first time," the man replied in perfect, albeit American sounding, English with a trace of a Spanish accent.

"I'm glad you speak my language," the man told them. "It will make our journey easier." He thrust out his tanned hand and introduced himself.

"Estou Norieta Solares," the man greeted in his language. "Tanto de você falar portuguesa?"

« Sim, nós fazer, » Mrs. Peel said.

Norieta laughed and said in English again, "I am your tracker. Welcome to Brazil!" He looked at Mrs. Peel's makeshift outfit and chuckled.

"You'll be wanting a room and fresh clothes, yes?" He asked. Steed replied in the affirmative. Mrs. Peel held up two fingers.

"And, we'll need two rooms," she said. Norieta shook his head.

She could tell upon really looking at the Brazilian guide that he was tanned, with muscular, yet lean shoulders and a well defined chest beneath his beige colored shirt. He wore shorts which were a khaki brown. His hair was cut extremely short and it was dark and straight. His well corded legs reminded her of a long distance runner.

Norieta's face was round and he had smooth skin. His lips were large, and expressive, and his eyes were a deep, dark chocolate brown. In short, he was a very handsome guide, she thought, smiling in appreciation despite his negative response.

"Sorry, but it is only possible to provide one at this time," he said. "You see, it is risky, having you here, since you both rather stand out with your crashing into the jungle, and Twenty One only thought one was coming."

His eyes flicked to Steed. "So," the guide finished, "I only arranged for one room."

Mrs. Peel looked as though she'd protest, but Steed gripped her arm, saying, "We'll take the room. Thank you."

She calmed down, but the look in her eyes indicated that this discussion was far from over.

"I'll arrange for better clothes for both of you," Norieta said. "you will appreciate them when we are walking or riding in this hot climate."

He motioned for them to follow, and presently, the trio arrived at his jeep, a green vehicle with huge tires and a dented door on his side. Norieta opened it, ushering Mrs. Peel into the back seat, and together, they were off.


	5. Chapter 5

THIS COULD BE THE START

CHAPTER FIVE

**A/N: First, I would like to thank everyone who reviewed or alerted me. I am glad that you all like where this story is going. I know I am being a broken record, but I am sorry it takes me too long to update. Between my job, my health issues and my muse, it does get challenging sometimes to update quickly. But, fear not, for I DO plan on finishing my works, however long they may take to complete. That said, on with this chapter.**

**Dedication: To Donald B, who continues to aid me in some of my technical issues.**

_**Previously: **__His eyes flicked to Steed. "So," the guide finished, "I only arranged for one room."_

_Mrs. Peel looked as though she'd protest, but Steed gripped her arm, saying, "We'll take the room. Thank you."_

_She calmed down, but the look in her eyes indicated that this discussion was far from over._

_"I'll arrange for better clothes for both of you," Norieta said. "you will appreciate them when we are walking or riding in this hot climate."_

_He motioned for them to follow, and presently, the trio arrived at his jeep, a green vehicle with huge tires and a dented door on his side. Norieta opened it, ushering Mrs. Peel into the back seat, and together, they were off._

The vehicle stopped in front of a hut made of bamboo pieces held together by strong ropes. The structure had three openings where glass windows would be. They were about three feet wide by three feet long, and they were covered with suede pieces held down with string. The roof, which looked like it had been thrown together with hay and little else, jutted out far enough so that the deck/porch that ran along the whole house was shaded. On the deck/porch were two rocking chairs. They were made from a medium brown type of wood and they had a criss cross design, as though they were woven. Steed and Mrs. Peel exchanged a look; both hoping that the inside looked a lot better than the outside.

Oblivious to their disappointed stares, Norieta pushed open the bamboo door with the diamond shaped opening in its middle. Mrs. Peel went in first...and what she saw took her breath away.

"I take back everything I thought about you just now, Steed," she said, boldly going further inside. Puzzled, the agent followed her inside. He glanced at the inner sanctum, and he saw a well-furnished interior that had furniture made not with bamboo, but with _pau rosa_, a rose tinted wood famous in that region.

Norieta pushed back a door with a tiny glass window which revealed a small, yet serviceable water closet. There was a sink and a shower with the toilet (which looked like fixtures out of the 1920's,) and they were all white and they rested on the only tiled floor in the whole cabin.

When one emerged out of the water closet, one saw that there was a small cook stove with some cabinets which, Norieta showed, were fully stocked with canned goods. There was, however, no sink except for the one in the water closet. When he glanced at the open cabinets, Steed noticed another problem: there was not a single bottle of liquor to be had.

_Obviously, _he mentally concluded, _I'll have to fix that! _"Norieta," Steed asked.

The guide turned to regard the agent. "Yes?" He responded.

"You wouldn't happen to have some drinks of the alcoholic persuasion, would you?" Steed queried.

While he waited for an answer, Mrs. Peel looked with some dismay at the single bed that was in the living quarters. It had two pillows for each side. The pillows were atop maroon colored thin sheets and seemed big enough like a Queen size, she noticed. Perhaps, she thought, she could move closer to the edge. Emma also reasoned that, if he was any kind of gentleman, Steed would be clothed, so nothing untoward would happen. She focused on Norieta.

He smiled, saying, "I will see what I can do, but, Senior Steed, a trip into town and back will take a few hours." His eyes stared at Mrs. Peel, and he caught her expression. "And for you, senora? What can I bring you?"

"A second room, when it's convenient," Mrs. Peel muttered. Norieta's only response was to grin again.

"Tomorrow, I will take you both to the area where Senior Peel last was," he told them. "They should have better accommodations there."

Steed thanked him, and when the tracker left them alone, the spy undid his shirt's first two buttons and ran his fingers through his raven curls. Although he looked like he suffered a little from the heat, Steed didn't appear to sweat at all. How, she wondered, did one _do _that? Emma had begun to feel some beads of perspiration running down her neck.

Steed, meanwhile, had found a can of stew and seeing a can opener in one of the cabinets, proceeded to open it. Mrs. Peel was about to take off Steed's blazer when she felt something cylindrical in the pocket. It was a tiny pill box. After he'd finished putting the stew into a pot to cook, Steed looked back at her.

In response to her inquiring stare, Steed told her, "They're vaccine pills. The laboratory at Headquarters developed them. There are a lot of dangerous creatures here, Mrs. Peel. An agent has to be prepared."

Mrs. Peel said wryly, "I don't doubt that." Swallowing one horse sized white tablet, she commented, "The least they could have done was to make it sweeter."

Steed swallowed the bitter concoction; then, he handed a smaller red tablet to her. "Did your husband ever come up with something similar?" He asked, wincing slightly at the aftertaste. "I'd heard he was a chemist of the first order."

Mrs. Peel shook her head, saying, "You heard falsely. Chemicals were not his specialty; they were more mine. But, we hadn't developed anything for the deadly frogs, spiders and snakes of Brazil yet. What's the red one for?"

"I presume you've heard of the vipers and elapids in Brazil?" he asked. When she nodded, he started stirring their dinner, telling her, "That takes care of their venom, and the blue pills inside are for the poisonous dart frogs."

Mrs. Peel was amused as she pulled out the last coloured pill. "Leave it to your agency to provide a rainbow of medicine," she lightly teased.

"It was either that or eat a pill the size of, well, Brazil," Steed responded. "We should be protected for at least seven hours." He placed the medicine into the jacket's pockets and together they consumed the blue tablets.

By the time they had taken all three pills, Steed had fetched two bowls, and together, the pair dined on stew and some cool water in a canteen courtesy of a small refrigerator that was on the opposite side. Mrs. Peel saw that the electrical wire attached to it ran outside the hut, presumably to a generator.

"Mr. Norieta sure thinks of everything," she remarked. A second later, she yawned and said, "I am going to sleep like the dead."

Putting their dirty dishes in the bathroom sink, Steed rolled up his sleeves and washed them and, finding a rag, also dried them. He walked out, saying in all seriousness, "Prophetic words, Mrs. Peel?"

Taking off the blazer, she laid it on a chair by the bed and responded as she closed her eyes, her camisoled form stretching out like a lazy cat, "You don't trust that we'll reach our destination safely?"

Steed put his bowler on a hook by the water closet and approached the bed. He didn't lie down yet, but waited expectantly. Mrs. Peel looked up at him, and giving her silent consent that he could lie beside her, she moved toward the edge of the bed's left side. As he settled down on the bed's right edge, Steed turned away, preparing to sleep on his side.

Finally, he said, "I don't trust anything, Mrs. Peel. I'm sure you've observed that by now."

Thoughtfully, as she drifted off in the arms of Morbius, Mrs. Peel remarked, "I wonder if Norieta is hiding anything. He smiles too much for my taste."

They both hugged their edges of the bed, determined not to snuggle up to each other. Before long, Steed's soft snoring echoed throughout the cabin. Mrs. Peel's arm flung itself across his hair, coming to rest on his pillow at the top of the bed.

XXXXXXXXXXX

The man crept closer to the cabin that night, his square cage with its occupant nestled in his arms. He had the wildness of a jackal in his eyes; the lust of the kill in his thoughts. The people who had hired him had chosen well, he thought. They wanted the job done on the two strangers quickly and quietly. He would have liked to have slit their throats, particularly the woman. There was something magical about blood running down a lady's body as she screamed.

_Of course__,_ he mentally reassured himself, _there are always creatures for me to hunt._

Besides, he knew, the other profession that he was known for served him well.

He released the lid on the glass cage and watched as the killer made its way up the electric cord over the generator and up toward the middle opening. Then, he lifted the material covering it very carefully and stepped way back to let Number Six, as he lovingly named his sixth out of twelve, crawl into the room.

He knew that it would become part of the jungle again after it had completed its job. Regrettable that he would lose one of his own creatures, but, he thought with satisfaction, he could always find another.

He softly withdrew from the cabin, going back as stealthily as he'd come to report to his superiors.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mrs. Peel awoke mere moments later. She went into the water closet, pausing to look at Steed. He lay perfectly still; one of his arms extending outward. The creature inched across the floor as she splashed some water on her face. While she answered nature's call, the diminutive attacker, which moved at incredible speed, crawled up the sheets on the bed.

Mrs. Peel emerged from the water closet and her jaw dropped when she saw the eight legged spider the size of a tarantula making its way up Steed's side and coming to rest on the middle of his other arm.

She swallowed softly; she knew exactly which type of spider the creature was. If her colleague moved even a fraction of an inch….She whispered frantically, "Steed, don't move."

Steed's eyes fluttered open. He couldn't see the thing on his arm, but his ears processed Mrs. Peel's warning, his instincts telling him to freeze. She backed away very slowly so as not to frighten the eight legged visitor. It continued to stare at the agent, but it made no moves yet. Mrs. Peel went to Steed's blazer, hoping that she would find something…_anything_ that she could use to get it off of the agent.

Mrs. Peel dug in Steed's pockets and pulled out a small card reading, "to John Steed, and an unforgettable evening in London, eternally yours, Lizette." There was a phone number written in bold letters.

_Figures…_she thought.

Next, she pulled out a bracelet that was very small with a tiny wineglass charm on it. She didn't want to know where Steed had gotten _that._ She then found a pair of handcuffs covered with pink fur. Ignoring those, Mrs. Peel saw a beautiful picture postcard of a nude beach with the most sexually provocative message on its back. When she thought she wouldn't find any kind of weapon, she felt a small book and withdrew it from Steed's pocket. It looked like an address book, she guessed.

_That would do__,_ she reasoned. Waiting somewhat impatiently, Steed was starting to sweat a little. He had never been afraid of anything, but as he wondered what was taking so long for his roommate to act, Steed worried that she might not be fast enough. Mrs. Peel slowly inched her way toward the bed. In what seemed like hours, (at least to Steed's way of thinking,) she finally reached his side, using the book and carefully flinging the unwelcome intruder off of his body.

After a brief pause the spider started going up and out of the opening. Steed and Mrs. Peel wondered if it might return. Silently, he pointed to the peg on the side nearest the bathroom where the bowler hung. She grabbed the hat slowly so as not to scare the arachnid, and before it reached the ledge of the bamboo opening, Mrs. Peel let the bowler fly. The sharp metal tip sliced through the spider, impaling it to the wall.

Both breathed a sigh of relief. A minute later, however, Steed frowned. "That was my best bowler!" He yelled.

Mrs. Peel responded dryly, "A simple 'thank you' would suffice."

Steed regarded her, saying, "Many thanks, Mrs. Peel." They pulled down the openings and as they secured them, she sighed, suggesting, "I'll take the first watch."

Thinking that was appropriate that they take turns watching for other signs of treachery, Steed agreed, his voice shaking somewhat. "Of course, Mrs. Peel, he said, "Ladies first." He settled down on his side of the bed to an uneasy sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

THIS COULD BE THE START

CHAPTER SIX

**A/N: None, this time, except an apology for not updating in so long! I also am very grateful for all of the alerts and reviews. It is wonderful to hear from you and I look forward to each and every comment or alert.**

_Previously: They pulled down the openings and as they secured them, she sighed, suggesting, "I'll take the first watch."_

_Thinking that was appropriate that they take turns watching for other signs of treachery, Steed agreed, his voice shaking somewhat. "Of course, Mrs. Peel, he said, "Ladies first." He settled down on his side of the bed to an uneasy sleep._

XXXXXXXXXX

The next morning, Norieta showed up bright and early with his jeep.

"Bom dia!" He said. After greeting "good morning," he removed some dried fruit for breakfast, telling Steed and Mrs. Peel, "this should hold both of you until we reach town. I have arranged for better accommodations and for separate rooms in a grand hotel!" He gave Mrs. Peel a wink. She remained unflappable.

"How long will it take to reach the town?" Steed asked.

"Um pouco," Norieta assured his guests, repeating himself in English. "A little while, Senor y Senora."

Draping his rumpled jacket over his arm, Steed said, "I'm not happy to hear that." He related the story of the visitor in the cabin.

Norieta exclaimed, "Meu deus! Are you both all right?"

Steed nodded, saying, "Rumpled a bit, but all right, yes. Mrs. Peel could do with a bath and I _know _I could use one."

Mrs. Peel looked over at her companions, particularly Steed, at his comment. She wrinkled her nose at her pungent aroma but didn't say anything otherwise. Mrs. Peel _did_ want to change at a nicer location with a shower and bath. Add to that the fact that their luggage had been lost when the plane crashed. Feeling inside of her pockets, she was relieved that she had some Brazilian currency to spend—at least, she could purchase _one_ more outfit!

"Is there a place in the village where fresh clothes may be purchased?" She asked.

Letting the duo into his vehicle, Norieta said, "Si! I will arrange for some. The hotel owes me a favor."

"Very good," Steed said, giving his size. Looking at Mrs. Peel, he said, "Which size do you prefer?"

Mrs. Peel gave her measurements, which made Norieta's eyes glaze over with appreciation. "It may take a while but I will have them there some time this afternoon."

Catching Steed's nod of approval, Norieta drove on. He made a left turn about ten minutes later but then he stopped driving. Steed followed his eyes to the log that was in the middle of the road. Mrs. Peel was straining to see what was going on. Moments later, she let herself out of the jeep and saw the roadblock.

"Ah I apologize," Norieta told the pair, "but this is the only paved road into the village. It will take a little longer to get to the hotel, at least another hour." His dark orbs scanned the log. It was at least 5 feet high and 5 feet wide.

"I cannot lift such a tree!" Norieta cried in frustration. "We will have to go around."

Steed let himself out and stared at the log, his mind taking a different turn. It _could _be coincidence that the downed tree just _happened _to be where he and Mrs. Peel were going, but he'd be a primate's uncle if he didn't believe just a little that someone deliberately put the branch there to slow them down.

As he took in Mrs. Peel's expression, Steed could tell she felt the same. The Brazilian guide drove around the massive log and took another road which, upon close inspection, didn't look too difficult to drive on. It was smooth, with an uncharacteristic sandy surface rather than a stony one. Norieta laughed, and the three settled into a relaxed atmosphere while he told a funny story.

Almost an hour later Steed was saying, "...so there I was, up to my knees with my unmentionables down around my ankles and with a femme fatale pointing her gun at me, and then...".

Mrs. Peel leaned a little closer to Steed to listen. She had to admit; she _was _curious. "What, Senior Steed?" Norieta, though driving, was all ears. He jerked his head slightly toward Steed, who was in the back next to Mrs. Peel, then addressed the road.

"Don't keep us in suspense," he pressed. "What did you do, with your gun in the other room?"

"I held up my cigar for her to finish lighting it!" The agent said, warming up to his joke. Mrs. Peel shook her head back and forth, but smiled. Norieta chuckled, commenting that Steed was "quite the ladies' man!"

"She enjoyed every minute of her interrogation," Steed declared.

"Interrogation…?" Mrs. Peel queried.

There was a twinkle in Steed's dark eyes as he said, "She was a Russian agent. I had always been in favour of international relations."

Norieta chuckled; Mrs. Peel shook her head back and forth. Steed fixed her with a determined look that said he'd gain access to her raciest story.

She returned tit-for-tat with a look of her own that said, "I'll not share one moment of my torrid adventures with my husband." Aloud, she primly told the two men, "a lady doesn't kiss and tell."

Steed and Norieta inwardly groaned while the guide drove on. Suddenly, he swerved around a small, yet sharp stone amongst the otherwise smooth ground. Before he straightened the vehicle, however, there was a small explosion.

"STEED!" Mrs. Peel cried as the vehicle flipped over so that moments later, the three were upside down. She managed to undo her seatbelt while Steed saw something straight ahead on the ground in front of them.

By the time she pulled Steed up with her hand, Norieta had righted himself and offered assistance to anyone who wanted help. Steed waved off Nurieta, who murmured a, "Madre de dios!" then looked wide eyed at the spy.

"Where did that explosion come from?" Norieta asked. "Not a gas leak, I'm sure. I checked the engine right before I pulled out with the jeep!"

Steed grabbed his umbrella off of the ground and said, "No, the explosion came from down there." He indicated with his brolly what he'd seen earlier. Several small land mines were strategically placed along the road.

Mrs. Peel scanned the deadly trail, trying to discern the pattern made by the mines. "Good thing you turned slightly or we wouldn't be here to tell about it now."

"Madre di dios!" He repeated, making the sign of the cross. His dark eyes looked at the overturned jeep. "Ahh, ai que do!" Taking out an old map, he studied the topography and said, "From where we are, in the center of the jungle, we'll have to travel on foot until nightfall before we reach any other settlements."

He started going in a slightly upward direction, saying, "I know this area fairly well, but be careful, in case of mines or other obstacles, si?" He made his way to the right, then left, still treading upward. Steed hung back far enough to see the guide but so that only Mrs. Peel could hear.

"Someone deliberately set those mines on that path!" Steed commented, stating his earlier thought. Mrs. Peel nodded her agreement.

"Mmmm...someone who doesn't want us finding my husband, if they took him down this road," she concluded.

"How?" Steed wondered. "I see no footprints, no tracks to follow; no evidence of covering them up. The ground is fresh. So how could someone have used this road, if in fact they did, to transport our honorable Mr. Peel...?"

Mrs. Peel saw Norieta grab a thin, ropy branch. As he did so, he cried, "Senor Steed! Senora Peel! I think we should go by the Tarzan route, yes? It's safer than possibly walking on land mines or something if you're both game?" He swung across, while Steed marveled at the man's ingenuity.

"Here we go again," Mrs. Peel said, grabbing a vine. Steed made sure his brolly was secured at his side courtesy of a severed vine and together, they swung.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

John Peter Peel sat alone in a his cell: a place that was, surprisingly, with plenty of creature comforts to give him pleasures he'd never sampled when he was in service to the Ministry. His room resembled a rich man's Spanish dwelling, with its pale yellow walls and king sized bed that was plush and luxurious. He had a private bath with a sunken tub and a massive sink and, beside that a shower stall with a frosted glass door.

It would have all been very pleasant…except for the huge guards in front of the wooden door leading out of the place. The windows were also sealed by bars. John could see the beaches and the world outside, but never reach it—a sick reminder of the control his captors thought they had over him. John wished Emma knew where he was. He realized that if he so much as coughed so that those on the beach could hear it, his jailers would be on him so fast he would beg for death.

He swore uncharacteristically—for, truth be told, he was a gentle man who didn't give himself over to such inappropriate and uncouth behavior. Adjusting his bowler and straightening his tie, for they were the only things that enabled him to bear his solitude with dignity, John thought some more about his wife.

He'd met Emma Knight quite by accident, when he was presented for knighthood to the Queen for services rendered when he had been honorably discharged from the military. They'd bumped into each other several times after the ceremony. Upon later reflection, John had thought it was Emma's maneuvering which had brought them together. After all, people didn't smash into one another several times on purpose, did they?

"I beg your pardon!" She exclaimed. John merely tipped his bowler to her and excused himself the first time—until they'd bumped into each other again on the double decker bus.

"You again!" She said, quite confused as to why this barmy individual was following her.

"I'm terribly sorry," John had said, going to another seat at the back of the bus. Emma started reading her paper while John looked at the scenery London had to offer.

The next time they'd bumped into each other had been in front of the Greene Tavern, a famous restaurant in London. _This _time, John Peter Peel said, "My dear, if this is going to be the norm for us, perhaps we should discuss our encounters over dinner."

To John's surprise and delight, Emma had agreed, and they both shared a table in the crowded pub.

After a year, it had been no surprise to both their families and friends that John and Emma had decided to marry. For the first two years, everything was blissful; then, like a thunderstorm, the assignment in Brazil came. John wondered many times, like now, if he would see his beloved Emma again.

"Shilling for your thoughts, Mr. Peel," said a voice. John could see no one. He did, however, hear a voice with a wheezing laugh. It was low, ominous.

John's indignation rose. "Who are you?" He cried. "_Where _are you?"

Another laugh sounded, followed by an, "Everywhere, Mr. Peel." The voice paused for dramatic effect. John tensed up as he realized he was being watched.

The voice continued. "Everywhere you, and your charming wife, just happen to be."

John looked all around, but seeing nothing except his prison walls, he swallowed. "Leave her alone," he said, his voice becoming softer. "Leave her alone, or I'll kill you."

The invisible enemy laughed again, then withdrew, leaving John alone.

Or so he thought.

John heard his final, chilling words: "It is _I _who will kill _you." _


End file.
